


Kindred

by blackwolfmajik



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22581205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackwolfmajik/pseuds/blackwolfmajik
Summary: Martin Whitly finds a surprise waiting for him in his secret work room.
Relationships: Jessica Whitly/Martin Whitly
Comments: 7
Kudos: 51





	Kindred

**Author's Note:**

> Prodigal Son: Kindred
> 
> Rated: T for Subject Matter
> 
> AN: I don't own anything, just spinning tales...

* * *

Martin's heart stuttered when he saw the tall profile of his wife waiting for him.

She was gorgeous, the sparkling black evening gown hugged her curves in ways that made his mouth water even after years of marriage.

But this time it wasn't her beauty that made him pause, it was the fact she was standing in his work room.

His _secret_ work room.

"Darling?" he asked tentatively, adrenaline starting to course through his veins. "We...we are going to be late for the party."

She didn't startle, having been aware of his cautious approach. Her elegant fingers lifted up a square of glossy paper.

"Jessica, _don't!_ It's not what it looks like. Don't touch those, _please_ -" Martin's heart hammered loudly in his ears. He was desperate for this not to be happening. Years of being careful and it was over the moment she saw the first photo-

"I just have a question, and I want the absolute truth," she said with eerie calm. "Tell me: did you fuck any of them?"

"What?" the profanity was shocking, knocking him off balance further. " _No_. No, I never did anything like that with...That was not what I needed from them."

Her deep blue eyes held his, as if trying to divine if he was lying. Apparently satisfied, she looked back down at the photos scattered across his desk.

"Some of these are old," Jessica leafed through his most private collection. His trophies. She held one photo up, a girl with pale blonde hair and an expression of frozen terror.

"You have an artistic eye."

It was as singularly awkward conversation, and yet it wasn't nearly as apocalyptic as he expected.

_Yet._

Jessica was agitated, but she wasn't horrified to find out her husband was capable of brutal murder.

She seemed...he wasn't sure he had a name for what it was.

"You always did have a sense for the finer things." Martin took a careful step into the room, but paused when she snapped her hard gaze back to his.

After a moment of consideration, Jessica tossed the photo back onto the pile and focused all her attention on her husband. Slowly, she eased back to sit on the desk and used her foot to turn his office chair around in clear invitation.

"Have a seat."

Martin swallowed hard, unable to stop his gaze from tracking up the pale calf to the slit in the sparkling fabric of her dress. The woman had always kindled his desire, but this was most definitely not the time to lose focus.

He needed time to plan, time to figure out what Jessica would do. There were tools and implements in the desk drawer within reach of the chair, so he obediently followed her direction to sit. He didn't want to hurt her, but he might have-

Jessica stroked the inside of his leg with her stiletto heel and the gears of his mind jammed. She then gathered the shimmering skirts of her dress to the side and slid down to straddle his lap.

His instincts were screaming to grab her, defend himself, but he was so surprised by her actions he could only choke out: "J-Jess?"

"You shouldn't keep photos, too easy to find," she murmured. "You should keep your trophies in a form nobody will recognize." With that, she lifted her arm into his line of sight and rotated her wrist. As she moved, tiny barely visible dots across her tanned forearm reflected the dim lamplight like the sequins on her dress. Martin looked closer and saw the spots were tiny circular burns that could easily be mistaken for freckles. The marks would have looked random if you didn't recognize their patterns.

_Constellations._

Martin gasped in surprise, his face lighting up in wonder. "Y- _you're_ the-"

As if by magic, Jessica produced a knife and pressed the point up under his jaw hard enough to just pierce the skin. "Now that I've bared my own secret, believe me when I say: if you endanger our children, _I will slice you from cock to crown._ Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," he replied in a tight voice, afraid to move more than absolutely necessary.

She held his gaze for several long moments to ensure the message sank in.

"You have my word, Darling."

Satisfied, her lip trembled as her stern expression began to crumble. "I love you, so much. I just...if the kids ever got hurt-"

"I would never let that happen," Martin risked lifting his hand to her cheek to wipe away the tears that threatened to fall. " _We_ would never let that happen."

"We've been so careful," she wailed. "But Malcolm is getting older - _curious_. We can't risk things like this," Jessica nodded toward the photos.

Michael's heart was racing, but now for a different reason."You're right, I'll...I'll stop-"

"I didn't say _stop_. I know...I know what it's like to have something that drives you. Something that calls to you to _hunt_...I just want you to be more careful!"

He blinked up at her, shocked once more. He truthfully hadn't been sure he could have kept his promise, but he would have made an effort.

For her.

"I love you, Jessica. I will do everything in my power to keep you and our children safe."

Her relieved smile was beautiful and when she kissed him, it stole his breath anew. When they parted, her eyes were black with need and she tossed the knife away with a flick of her wrist. The blade quivered an inch deep into the wooden door frame.

Before Martin could move, her tongue washed over the thin trickle of blood and he could taste it on her lips as she kissed him again.

"Our son can never know what we are," she swore. "He will find his own way. Promise me?"

"And if he is like us?"

She didn't look happy with the prospect, but her jaw was like iron. "Then we'll help him...like we help each other."

"We will." Martin Whitley smiled as he stroked her cheek, feeling truly unburdened for the first time in decades. "God, I am the luckiest man alive."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Ok! This was a plot bunny that wouldn't go away. Each episode I watch of Prodigal Son I get more and more convinced that Malcolm's mom knew far more than she lets on.


End file.
